Disclaimer: I still don't own it.

Chapter Three

Of Futures Told and Uncertain

Several hours later...

Something was banging against her head, knocking against her front teeth and ringing in her ears. Hermione awoke with a start, an ache pounding at the her back. She felt dreadful. With a start she jumped up in alarm, banging her head against the light that hung in the tiny bathroom, heart racing faster than a golden snitch. For a wild moment she was surrounded by silence, and she wondered madly if she had been left alone on the train, for a darkness had fallen outside that deep and menacing, as if a thousand nights had come at once.

But then coherent thought and sounds came hurling back to her and she took a deep calming breath. The train was still rattling beneath her feet speeding towards Hogwarts, if she listened hard enough she could hear voices and laughter of Hogwarts students and the munching of pumpkin pasties and chocolate frogs.

Rubbing her face in her hands she took a tentative step towards the mirror, hesitating before she glanced up at her reflection. She looked terrible. Eyes were read and empty, sore from the lack of sleep she'd been experiencing lately. Her skin was sallow, almost as deathly white as Snapes, and that was saying something. It had been tan this morning. And by the sight of her dull reflection anyone could tell that she was miserable.

With a firmness she wished she possessed earlier when she needed it most, she washed her hands in the sink as if she could scrub away all the terrible things that she had become an unwilling part of. But just like blood of a murderer, the evidence clung with unswerving force to her skin, more strongly than any permanent sticking charm could hope to achieve. The ring quite simply, did not want to budge.

Not wanting to think about how she was supposed to hide the blasted thing, she splashed her face with cold water and pinched her cheeks, hoping the small trick her cousins always swore by would work for her in restoring some sort of colour to her face. Her hair, she noticed, was in such a state that all she could be bothered to do was pull the straggly mess up into a bun so that it was out of her face.

Hermione was glad that the corridors were almost empty. She consulted her watch as she walked along towards the back of the train and was surprised to find that they wouldn't arrive at Hogsmede station for at least another hour yet. At least she would get to see Harry and Ron.

A compartment was open up ahead, and with dismay she realised that it was the one she had barged into earlier, wishing now that she had known then it would be such a mistake. Stop it, she told herself firmly, holding her head up high as she hurried past hoping they would be too busy to notice her. It won't do you any good to go and start dwelling on it.

For a moment, she felt relief wash over her and she continued on down the train, wondering if it had ever been so long before.

"Granger."

She flinched and for a moment she forgot to breath. She sucked in a deep breath. Too much. Hermione debated with herself whether she should turn around or run as fast as her legs could carry her to her friends where he would not dare say anything. But just as curiosity killed the cat, it was going to kill Hermione too.

"Yes?" she replied curtly as she spun on her heels, her face impassive. She hoped more than anything her appearance would not betray her any more than her emotions had.

There was maliciousness glinting in his eyes, like the jagged edges of a sharp diamond. He closed the distance between them, but Hermione who didn't want him anywhere near her took a few tentative steps back in response. It continued like this for a few seconds, a strange sort of dance. Malfoy let out a weary sigh and stopped, resting his hands in his pockets. The glare seemingly vanished from his eyes.

Hermione shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. There was something about the way that he could change like that so quickly that unnerved her. Never would she be able to trust him, even if that was what Dumbledore was hoping for.

He looked lost, as if he didn't know what to say. "What do you want?" she croaked, not aware that her throat was dry as sandpaper.

His vulnerability was beginning to scare her, his gaze so completely upon hers as if they were sharing more than just a secret marriage. If someone like Draco Malfoy could appear scared, then she realised it didn't leave much hope for the rest of them. She knew deep down that he was not as cowardly as he had acted in the past, she knew that deep down he was made of something sterner than most of them put together.

Of course it didn't endear him to her in the slightest, she was merely intrigued. "If you don't have anything to say-"

"They won't be able to see it."

She raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Who won't?" she asked carefully. "What are you talking about?"

He motioned to the ring that she had been trying to hide behind her cloak. "That. No one will be able to see the ring, bar those who know of our situation." His eyes were fixed on hers and she wished more than anything that he would look away.

"It's just as well." She hadn't meant to sound so hard and clipped, but the words tumbled from her mouth before she had time to register them. "I cannot really say that I want to go broadcasting around that I am married to a Death Eater's son." Stop. Stop now, she begged herself but she couldn't, and he hadn't intervened. Malfoy was standing there under the light, looking quite unlike anything Hermione had seen of him before, and it was this that drove her 

on. "Or maybe you're a Death Eater yourself," she said, bitterness lacing her words. "I wouldn't be surprised."

The accusation hung in the air, and Hermione didn't regret saying it.

"You don't look nearly as confident as you hope you do.

"Neither do you."

He shook his head. "There's a difference."

Hermione was about to ask him why there was a difference. She was going to ask him why he wasn't insulted by her words, why he wouldn't just go ahead and hit her so she could have even more reason to hate him, despise him; why he was purposefully doing this to her, making her life a worst nightmare. But the questions were left to swirl around amongst her chaotic mind, words lost in her throat.

Looking around the tall Slytherin, she caught sight of Pansy stalking up the corridor, her annoying heels clicking on the floor as she stomped along.

"Of all my luck," she muttered.

Aware he was still looking at her, she folded her arms across her chest. "Is there anything else?" she asked acidly.

"There you are, Draco," Pansy cooed, snaking an arm around his waist. "I've been wondering-"

Her eyes caught sight of Hermione and she stopped, a scowling emerged and her lips tightened. "Gods, Mudblood, don't you have toilets to scrub or something?"

Hermione smiled savagely. "No, but you will soon if you don't stop using such fowl language. Consider this a warning."

Pansy's eyes widened, her grip around Draco tightening. But she remained silent, vicious thoughts tumbling around in her head.

"If there's nothing else?" Hermione asked Malfoy, not bothering to wait for a response. She was pleased to see that he had once again adopted his trademark sneer and looked all the more worse for it. Hermione turned and walked, making sure to keep a steady pace, down the train. Their voices echoed beside her and she caught glimpses of their conversation.

"-swear that bitch...stalking you; disgusting really...should be banned...stupid, ugly mudblood."

Checking the corridor was clear behind her, Hermione took a moment to compose herself. If she was going to do this, lie to her best friends, deliberately mislead them, well, she needed to calm down.

She rested her head against a window. Colours and shapes whizzed past at hyper speed, distorted ugly shapes that made no sense to her. Rain splattered against the window like dirty fingers being dragged across the glass, a fierce wind was howling, trying to get beyond the glass, to get to her. But it couldn't reach. She allowed herself a moment to be filled with false hope that if she could just disappear into the oppressive darkness outside, then maybe everything would work out okay. If only...

The weather bothered her. It was just like it had been that night, she felt now just as she had felt then. Dread on her skin, dread on her bones. Something was expected of her, she knew how Dumbledore worked, Hermione was perceptive, she picked small things up that most others would miss. But what his true plan was, she had not the faintest clue, and she was pretty sure that no amount of library books could help her solve it.

Oh, how Harry and Ron would laugh at her if they knew she was faced by a problem all of her very own that she could not solve on her own, or with her precious books. Would they be disappointed in her? They expected so much better, even if she couldn't tell them, they would expect her to face up to it, no matter how terrible the task. They trusted Dumbledore implicitly, yet she wondered why he didn't trust them to know what was going on.

Her gaze was drawn back down the corridor to where Malfoy, her husband, had been standing. It was still too unreal. "Why am I married to you?" she whispered to no one in particular, longing for an answer.

None came though, and she knew she would have to get used to that fact. Without wasting another second, she hurried down the train and didn't stop again. The compartment door flung open and she found herself in the middle of a crushing hug, her two best friends beaming at her and jumping up and down as they congratulated the new Head Girl, telling her they knew she could do it; sombre faces as they questioned her on where she had been, why they hadn't heard from her in two weeks. Lies spilled from her lips as if she had been doing it all her life, they seemed to buy it – but Harry, she'd have to watch him, there was something in the way that he was looking at her that made her worry, (oh how could she lie to them, when they were her best friends?), and Ron, Ron was smiling at her but there was something underneath it, a warm fondness she could tell that had been bubbling for a while now (no please, not that, not now, no). But she let it go for another day, enjoying their company; together they could be anything they wanted, they had seen so much that it did not matter. And for a moment of bliss Hermione forgot all about Draco Malfoy and the ring that Harry and Ron could not see and she felt content.

And then a hammer came crashing through the glass, the facade broken. Ginny – Hermione had barely noticed that she had been sat in the same compartment, she had tucked herself away in the furthest corner – was ushered out just as the journey was coming to an end, and Ron locked the door.

They stood hunched in the middle, confusion clouding Hermione's eyes as she wondered what else could possibly happen today.

Harry seemed to notice her anxiousness and squeezed her hand reassuringly, but his smile this time didn't reach his eyes.

"What?" she inquired, her voice barely audible above the clattering wheels below. "What's happened?"

Harry cast a nervous glance at Ron before looking back at her. He turned away quickly. Hermione was shocked to see that his eyes burned with something she had never noticed before. "Tell me," she pleaded, "it's him, isn't it? It's Voldemort."

Ron flinched and Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's just a name, Ron-" she began but he cut her off, clearing his throat.

"Harry's had another vision, or he's had another glimpse at what You-Know-Who's planning. He thinks it like some sort of prophecy, something that hasn't happened yet, but will."

Harry nodded, sitting himself down heavily on the seat. Hermione sank into the seat next to him. "But – but that's good news, right?"

"No, it's not."

His words were strained, as if he were trying to believe himself. Harry looked so much older beyond his years that Hermione felt ashamed that she had thought selfishly that she had been suffering the most. It was nothing compared to what he was going through.

"He's, he's building something," he continued eventually, as Hermione focused on him in silence. "Something really big, something he didn't have before."

Hermione looked up at Ron, a questioning look in her eyes but he shook his head and looked down at Harry.

"You know what it is," she said gently, grabbing onto his hand.

He kept his gaze focused on the ground. "Yes."

"Can you tell me?"

He hesitated, then took a deep breath. "No. I mean-" he saw the look on her face out of the corner of his eye and felt a need to explain, "-I'm not too sure, or, I hope I'm wrong."

Hermione opened her mouth to ask why he couldn't tell her what it is, but she glanced up at Ron but he shook his head sadly and she closed it again. Her eyes were drawn back to Harry slowly. There was a metallic taste in her mouth, she wanted to spit it out.

"Dumbledore wants me to destroy it. But I don't think I can."

The words spilled from his mouth. All three seemed to be frozen, as if time around them had stopped. Hermione could feel the train beginning to slow down, the hum of the engines died out and students began to emerge into the corridors, an excitement radiating from them as they returned to school.

Harry broke the stillness. "I won't be staying at school all year, I'm pretty sure of it."

He wasn't looking at her any more. As soon as he had said it, it was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he stood up, flattening his hair over his scar and pulling on his cloak.

"It's going to be alright," he said, for Hermione's benefit rather than his own. "Dumbledore's going to be giving me more private lessons, and he doesn't think I'll have to leave for a while yet."

Hermione felt a rush of pride overwhelm her. Harry was standing there bearing the burden of the wizarding world on his shoulders, yet there wasn't a trace of bitterness in his voice or anger evident on his face. Just the cool clarity of acceptance. It would have been an insult to Harry to protest why it always had to be him, when they all knew why. She forgot all about confessing her secret, ashamed she had been so selfish at even thinking to do so.

"Well, that still gives us time, doesn't it?" she asked, looking between them both briefly.

Harry smiled. "Yeah, of course."

"Anything I can do to help you, I will."

Ron nodded his head in agreement. "We both will."

"We both will," Hermione repeated, hoping Harry understood their commitment to him. She thought he did, she was pretty sure he did.

"Come on, let's make the most of our last Hogwarts beginning-of-term feast," Ron said, rubbing his stomach. "I'm bloody starving."

TBC